11. Just Like Your Mama
Just Like Your Mama
The house creaks and groans in welcome as I return home. My bones ache, my heart hurts, and I just want to curl up in bed with Belle for the next seventy-five years.
Give or take a few.
Belle trails behind me up the stairs. I’d carry her myself, but honestly she’s almost half the size of Hazel and I don’t want her getting used to it.
We enter my room and a weight instantly lifts off my shoulders.
My room is my only safe place in the world.
It’s pink—which started as an ironic joke, but everyone just assumed I was being serious that pink was my favorite color.
The walls, the carpet, the sheets, my comforter.
All pink. The only hints at my actual personality are in the small details.
The one framed photo of me and Hazel when we were children. Dad was a photographer, and he took the picture. I like to pretend I can remember him taking it when I look at it.
My janky, secondhand sewing machine. I know it’s not allowed to be my dream anymore, I couldn’t possibly go to Paris and design accessories. But I still stay up late sewing, even if it’s just for me.
It’s also covered in blankets.
One thing Hazel and I have in common is a love of fuzzy blankets.
Although I’m pretty sure she just indoctrinated me into the fuzzy blanket crew by force.
Before I’m even properly dressed down into my gray leggings and pink crop hoodie, Hazel barges into my room.
“Have you forgotten how to knock?” I ask, pulling the hoodie over my head. Belle mrows in solidarity. She’s probably trying to earn back some of the affection she lost while snuggling with Ash.
Hazel sighs, some of the wind in her sails leaving her. “You’re right. I shouldn’t do that. I’m just fucking worried about you, and I haven’t seen you since last night.”
“While the concern is appreciated, it isn’t necessary. You may leave.”
I plop onto my bed, determined to win whatever staring contest Hazel started. If she wants to be stubborn, I can be more stubborn.
Just ask Ash.
“We have a lot we need to talk about. And I haven’t pushed it because, honestly, we’ve both been through a lot the past couple months.” She takes a cautious step further into the room. “But we can’t avoid this anymore.”
“Avoid what exactly?” There really should be a therapist present for this conversation.
“Can I come in?” she asks. She’s already in the room, but I know what she’s really asking. Can we address this weird tension between us? Can we start trying to fix this? Can we talk about Mom?
Why did she have to choose today? Today, when I had to force Ash away with tears blurring my vision.
I nod anyway. Maybe she’s taking advantage of my emotional vulnerability, but I miss my sister.
She breathes a sigh of relief and sits on my bed, curling one of my blankets around her lap. “How are you after last night?”
“Honestly? I’m used to fire whispering to me, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. The fact that it asked for help was more worrying than anything.”
“You’re used to it?” Her head cocks like a confused puppy’s.
“It’s been whispering to me since puberty. I’ve never been able to actually understand it, but I could understand that it was communicating.” I slump against the headboard. I expected it to be strange, but it does feel a bit freeing to finally let out this huge secret.
She can’t hide the shock on her face, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.
“I didn’t tell anyone because Dad was already gone at that point and Mom had banned magic. I knew if I mentioned it, I’d get in trouble and you and Mom would fight.” I sigh. “So it became my secret.”
“That makes sense.” Her hand reaches for mine, grasping lightly. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”
“You’re making it sound like it was scary, or like I was worried. I knew it was magic and it was never threatening. It was almost fun. Something small that belonged to me.”
“I can understand that. I’m sorry I initially didn’t believe you. We’ve been through so much shit, I’m honestly surprised one of us hasn’t had a mental break. I think I’m subconsciously waiting for it.” She chuckles. It’s a dry, humorless thing.
I match the sound. “Fair.”
“I’ve missed you,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry things got so messed up between us.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“I don’t know what to tell you about the fire asking for help. I’m obviously not the person who has enough witchy knowledge to assist here. Grandma is probably the best place to start, and if not her, I’d suggest going to the shop and seeing if you can find anything in our family journals.”
“Family journals?” It’s my turn to cock my head.
She nods. “Our entire family history is documented all the way back to Salem. I haven’t read about any Fire witches yet, but it may be that another one had a similar experience.”
I shudder at the thought of setting foot in the shop.
“Would you be willing to bring the journals home? So I can read them here?”
“You’d have to ask Grandma if she’s okay with it, honestly. She doesn’t like things being taken out of the shop for any length of time.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “I think it’s because she’s a control freak.”
“I’ll ask her later.”
Grandma’s had a lot of patience for me lately, but all patience runs out eventually. And Hazel’s not wrong about her being a control freak.
Belle mews, butting her head against Hazel’s arm.
I chuckle. “Demanding everyone’s attention just like your mama, aren’t you?”
“She’s beautiful, just like her mama.”
We haven’t talked about everything, but it’s the first time I haven’t felt scared to talk to my own sister. It’s progress and I revel in it.
It would be silly to assume our relationship will go back to exactly the way it was. For better or worse, Hazel and I are different people than we were. And if we’re going to fix things, we have to forge a way forward as the people we are now, not the people we were.
Ew, this is getting too sentimental.
“So, how’s soulmate sex?”
“LAURA!”
I’m avoiding Grandma.
I need to ask her about the fire whispers, but she isn’t up in my face about it and there’s part of me that doesn’t want to know. Part of me that’s worried I’m some sort of freak.
Or that I’m evil.
Can kids absorb their parents’ karma?
Okay, I can’t keep going around and around in circles. Time to be a grown up and just do whatever it is I don’t want to do. Like all other adults.
Grandma came with me to the market today, leaving Hazel alone in the shop, but she’s not in my tent like usual. She’s probably causing some sort of trouble.
A prickle of awareness raises the hairs on the back of my neck as I instinctively look to my left.
Ash.
We haven’t spoken since our fight. He’s probably trying to make a point that he’s not going to push me until I’m ready to ask for help.
Joke’s on him, though. I don’t plan on ever asking him for help and I wanted him to stay away from me. So thanks, dude, but you’re just shooting yourself in the foot.
“Making faces at people?” Grandma asks, sneaking up behind me like a ghost.
I grumble, breaking eye contact with Ash. “He deserves it.”
“Of course, dear. He’s a man.” She winks. “He probably deserves worse.”
I laugh, tension melting from my shoulders. God, I don’t have enough fun anymore. I don’t laugh enough anymore. “Can I ask you something, Grandma?”
“I don’t know—can you?”
I glare at her. “How much do you know about Fire witches?”
“Not much, if I’m entirely honest. They’re the rarest of the elemental witches. Forgive the pun, but they also tend to be the most fiery.” She sits beside me at the booth. “Something you’d like to ask specifically about your magic?”
“The whispering,” I admit, lowering my voice.
She gives me a guilty smile. “I don’t know much about that, unfortunately. I vaguely remember seeing something about it in the family history, but I can’t recall the specifics. May I suggest starting there?”
Pretty much exactly what Hazel said.
“Is there any way you’d be okay with Hazel bringing the family history book home so I can read there?”
She appraises me for a moment, eyes trailing over my face. “I don’t love the idea of that book sitting forgotten in your room for months. But I’ll allow it—”
“Thank you, Grandma!”
“—if you tell me why you don’t want to go into the shop.”
Fuck.
How do I explain this to her without ripping myself open?
“Too much has happened there,” I reply. Let it go, Grandma.
She stares at me, her ocean-blue eyes searching me until I’m squirming. “Fine. You have a week with the book. Any longer and I’m coming into your room and getting it.”
“Deal.”
That’s better than I was hoping for, so I’m not going to fuck that up by fighting with her.